


Coming Home

by deeeepsteep_ (roguefreyja)



Series: cd ~/ [2]
Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Fluff, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:01:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22406875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roguefreyja/pseuds/deeeepsteep_
Summary: Darlene never breaks eye contact, just gazes up at Dom from under those long, dark lashes. Draws her in, warm and seductive and steady, gives her a glimpse of that place Darlene holds that’sjust for her.If she wants it. She could drown in it.
Relationships: Darlene Alderson/Dominique DiPierro
Series: cd ~/ [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1612642
Comments: 6
Kudos: 66





	Coming Home

**Author's Note:**

> A sort of follow-up to _Maybe It’s Time To Go Home_.

Dom hesitates on the landing. Apartment 3D, just to her left. Darlene buzzed her into the building on the intercom downstairs, so she only has so much time to compose herself. The hallway is dim, quiet, save for the sound of a television drifting up from downstairs somewhere.

She had talked to Darlene that morning, before her mom picked her up from the airport and spent the day with her. As much peace as it gave her to be with Trudie, to make plans to see the rest of her family, she wanted to see Darlene more than anything. It was all she could do to make it through the day, hope that the jet lag didn’t catch up with her too soon. She didn’t know how to explain it to her mother—and truthfully, didn’t even really know how to define it for herself—so she said she was seeing a friend in the city. A _friend_ who she had spent almost six months thinking about—in the quiet parts of her day, when she missed her sharp mind and snarky remarks, and at night, when she dreamt about the way her lips felt against her mouth and her hands against her skin.

Dom approaches the door, hesitates. She drags a hand through her hair, pushes it back away from her face. _Okay_. She lifts her hand to knock, but Darlene opens the door before she even gets the chance.

“Hi.”

Fuck. _Darlene_. She’s beautiful. Some indescribable feeling hits Dom square in the chest, makes her feel off-balance. Darlene is _right_ here. For the first time in months. For the first time since the airport. The warm glow of light coming from inside the apartment frames Darlene, her hair messy, but artfully so, eyes soft with the slow quirk of her smile—the perfect picture of this woman she is drawn so inexplicably to, heart first.

“Hey.” It’s all Dom can manage.

“ _Cute_ glasses.”

“Oh, thanks. I ran out of contacts. Turns out it’s pretty expensive to have my eye doctor send them to Hungary, so—”

“Come here.” Darlene reaches forward with a devastating little smile, one that crumbles Dom's resolve, one that says everything— _I know, this is a lot, it’s okay, just come here_ —and brushes her hand against Dom’s. Hooks her fingers around hers and tugs. Gentle, persistent.

Dom melts into the request, hears the door click shut behind her. Darlene never breaks eye contact, just gazes up at Dom from under those long, dark lashes. Draws her in, warm and seductive and steady, gives her a glimpse of that place Darlene holds that’s _just for her_. If she wants it. She could drown in it.

She didn’t imagine she would be so overwhelmed, of all the times she imagined this, her limbs liquid and unsteady—but then Darlene’s touch jolted right through her, a spark across an open circuit that started her heart pounding.

Darlene steps in, circles her arms around Dom and pulls her into a hug. Closes that circuit. Her body hums at the contact, warm and electric beneath her skin.

“It’s _really_ good to see you.” Darlene’s voice is muffled against her shoulder. She swears she hears it waver.

“You too.” Dom barely manages a whisper, realizes it’s her own composure that’s wavering. She squeezes Darlene tighter, closer, buries her face against Darlene’s hair. She still smells the same. Still feels the same. Neither of them make a move to part, and for a few long moments the rest of the world falls away, feels as distant as the miles between them had for so many months.

It’s only when Darlene starts, leans back from her with concern furrowing her brow that Dom realizes _she’s_ the one who is crying.

“Whoa, hey—“

“Sorry, I—“ Dom sniffles, almost chuckles, shakes her head. Darlene swims in her vision for a moment, her hair lit golden around the edges by the lamp behind her, before she hugs her again. Tucks Dom into an embrace that makes her heart ache.

“You alright, girl scout?”

Dom can only nod in response. The tenderness Darlene holds for her is palpable, fills in the quiet in the air around them, floods so much emotion through Dom that for a minute it feels hard to breathe. If she tries to say something now it will be too much. It’s not like they hadn’t talked regularly over the months, adding kindling to this connection that had never really faltered. But this is different. _So_ different. She leans into Darlene, waits for her breathing to steady itself. And Darlene doesn’t push, doesn’t question it, just wraps her arms around her. Waits for Dom to decide when it’s enough. 

“Thank you.” She murmurs against Darlene’s hair.

“Dom, I’ve been waiting months to hug you, you don’t have to thank me.” Darlene breathes out a laugh.

“No, I mean for—for everything. For seeing me.” Dom’s voice wavers again and she pulls back, enough to look Darlene in the eyes. “For pushing me when I needed it.” She sniffles, smiles. “Being here when I came home.“

Darlene exhales with a smile, one that trembles at the edges. Tears threaten to spill over her eyelashes.

“ _God_ —“ She tips her chin up, tries to blink away the tears in her eyes. Huffs out a sigh. “I fucking missed you.”

Darlene is brilliant, sarcastic, fearless—and it’s this side of her that protects her heart. But she has allowed Dom to know the woman underneath that, the one who isn’t always brave, who feels deeply, loves fiercely. The two sides of her in balance, laid bare, always leave Dom breathless. And fuck if she doesn’t want to kiss Darlene right now, press her up against the closest piece of furniture and slide her hands beneath her shirt, against her skin. Show her just how much she missed her. Dom realizes she must be blushing, feels heat rise sharply in her cheeks. She diverts her eyes with a smile, suddenly shy, despite herself.

“Look—“ Darlene is smiling too, like she knows. Of course she knows. Once they had crossed that boundary again, over the phone, it was hard to deny. Hard to resist.

“I’m in charge of this little lady for the next few days.” She gestures with a nod to the small dog sitting on the couch. “Can we interest you in an evening stroll? You’re not like strictly a cat person or anything, right?”

“Oh, actually—“ Dom deadpans, opting for sarcasm. Something familiar, easy. Relief trickles through her. Darlene is keeping her on her toes, not letting either of them get too mired in the heavy parts of how it feels to be in the same space again. Together.

Darlene pulls a face. “You’re not serious.”

“Seriously?” Dom can’t stop herself from smiling. It feels good. Almost normal. She needs this. “I like both.”

“Ugh, thank god.” Darlene rolls her eyes. “I thought I was going to have to ask you to leave.”

“ _Wow_. Just like that, huh?” Dom plays along, feigns that she’s hurt.

Darlene smiles, is practically beaming. She touches Dom’s cheek, levels her gaze with hers. Brushes her thumb over the still-damp trail left over from her tears. The intimacy is easy, enveloping—her eyes are playful, and Dom’s breathing goes shallow. “I’m kidding.”

The soft hum of Darlene’s voice shivers down her spine, mixes intoxicatingly with the way her body lights up every time Darlene touches her. She can only manage a hum of amusement in response.

“You two haven’t even met, have you?” Just like that Darlene’s touch is gone, and she’s lifting the dog from the couch. When she returns, she holds a terrier-shaped bundle of dark fluff in front of Dom. “Flipper, meet Dom.”

“Hi, baby.” Dom coos at the dog, reaching over to pet her. She catches Darlene’s eyes as she does, and she looks so happy, so content.

“She’s technically Elliot’s, but we’ve been sharing custody now that I’m just downstairs.” Dom remembers talking to Darlene that week, after she had finished moving into the building Elliot lives in. Remembers the pride in Darlene’s voice as she described the apartment. _Hers_.

“Anyway, I’ll give you the tour after our walk. You ready?” Darlene lingers, waits for Dom to decide. If it looked too obvious that they had just been crying, she assumes Darlene wouldn’t be asking, so she nods in response. Darlene tips her head toward the door. “Can you grab her leash?”

“Yeah, I got it.” Dom turns to grab the bright purple leash that hangs by the front door and follows Darlene out to the stairs.

* * *

Outside, the air is sharp and cool. It’s springtime in New York City, but at night, reminders of winter still carry on the breeze. Dom tugs the collar of her jacket up around her neck to cast off the chill while they walk.

“How’s your mom?”

She’s surprised by the question. When she looks over, Darlene’s expression is curious, soft. Unfamiliar territory. They hadn’t really talked about her family since they had been returned home safely.

“Happy to see me.” Dom laughs under her breath, recalling how her mother had shrieked with joy in the airport baggage area upon finding her. “I don’t think she stopped crying ‘til we crossed the bridge into Jersey.”

“I told her I would stay with her for a few days. You know, after everything, it’s... I think we both need it.”

“Yeah.” Darlene sways closer to her, her voice soft.

“But if I pass out on you ‘cause of the jet lag, she knows not to worry.” Dom makes to lighten the subject. They’ve already trudged through so much of that darkness together. “Just don’t take it personally.” She tucks her hand under Darlene’s upper arm, squeezes up next to her so that they are walking arm in arm.

“I would be _honored_ to bore you to sleep.” Darlene doesn’t look over, but she smirks and nudges her body into Dom’s shoulder playfully.

Dom sways with the pressure, lets the momentum press her back against Darlene’s side when she rights herself. She laughs, and it feels freeing, light in the air that buzzes with the sounds of the city at night. “Honestly, that sounds fantastic.”

Darlene is headstrong and Dom is stubborn, logical and reserved where Darlene is impulsive, hot-blooded. The way they contrast and compliment each other is unlike anything Dom has ever felt before, hinged on mutual understanding, patient and _good_. It’s easy to for Dom to recognize now, that unseeable force that draws them to each other—that has always been there. 

“Hey—“ Darlene stops when they reach the corner, nods across the street. “Should I get some beer or something? My fridge is kinda empty.”

Dom thinks about the last time they shared beers together, and warmth flushes over her skin. “Oh, um...“ She looks down at Flipper, who blinks up at them expectantly. When she looks back to Darlene, her eyes are bright in the glow of the lights from the market across the street, warm with affection. “Yeah. I could go for a drink.”

“Me too.” Darlene drawls, letting the words out slow. She smiles at Dom, for a moment just lingers. Dom missed this. Missed her. The way they are together. Warmth stirs in her, a twist of anticipation that’s so familiar in Darlene’s company. The crosswalk flips to the walk signal, and Darlene starts across the street. “C’mon.”

* * *

“I still can’t believe they don’t sell this kind in Europe. I swear I looked everywhere.” Dom grumbles around the lollipop in her mouth, a surprise find from the market. It’s been _so_ long since she last had one.

“You know they make these in Connecticut? Weird, right?” The familiar and overpowering sweetness is a welcome relief to her senses. And a welcome distraction. She’s been trying not to blatantly stare at Darlene’s ass on the way back up the stairs to her apartment, but on the last few steps she just flat out gives in.

“What the hell kind of flavor is that anyway?” Darlene shoots a look back at her. “It seriously looks like Pepto Bismol.”

Darlene’s eyebrows raise when she notices Dom’s line of sight, but Dom tries to shrug it off. Ignores the way she blushes almost instantly at being caught staring. “Bubblegum.”

Darlene just smiles at her, looks smug. The blushing must be satisfaction enough. She holds her hand out expectantly.

“Let me try.”

“This one?” Dom’s brow furrows. She has more lollipops in her coat pocket, but she’s carrying Flipper, so they’re not easy to get to.

“ _Yeah_. Come on, it’s not like we’ve never swapped fluids. I want to see what the fuss is all about.”

Dom nearly chokes on a laugh, but Darlene doesn’t waver. She rolls her eyes and shifts Flipper in her arms, frees one hand so she can hand the lollipop over to Darlene.

“Thank you.” Darlene sing-songs, and heads up the last few stairs, fishing her keys from her jacket pocket. She unlocks the door for them, holds it open with her foot so that Dom can get through with Flipper.

Dom had been too preoccupied to notice much about Darlene’s apartment earlier, but now, after letting Flipper loose, she’s able to take it all in. She had seen bits and pieces in the background of video calls, a couple photos, but nothing so telling as the cozy warmth that emanates from the space. It’s small, the living room and kitchen joined into one main room, and it’s simple, but it feels lived in, cared for. The fluffy looking white rug by the couch reminds her of one of Darlene’s favored coats, and she smiles. It seems so fitting. Flipper flops down onto the rug, looks content.

“So, what’s the big deal with these?” Darlene plops the bag from the market onto the round dining table near the fridge and turns on her heel. She tugs the lollipop out of her mouth with an unceremonious sucking sound. “Why not just chew _actual_ bubblegum?”

“I don’t know, just a—“ Dom blinks. Her cheeks flush warm at the way Darlene’s eyes dig into her. “A habit, I guess.”

“Uh huh.” Darlene smirks. “Seem like a bit of an _oral fixation_ , Dom.”

Dom scoffs. Rolls her eyes and threads her fingers through her hair, brushing it back from her eyes. She’s too warm—embarrassed, if only because she’s flustered. All too aware of how easily Darlene does this to her. _Enjoys_ doing this to her. 

“You mean like cigarettes?” Dom quips back.

Darlene grins, looks impressed. “Touche.”

She relents with a too casual sway of her hips, and turns to tug the six pack from the bag on the table. Dom‘s eyes follow, drawn to the shape of her. What little is revealed in the way her simple black t-shirt shifts with her movements, a line of bare skin exposed just above where her pants hug her waist. Darlene pulls a bottle opener from a drawer near the stove, opens two beers, passes one to Dom. Cracks the remainder of the lollipop between her teeth loudly and sets the stick down onto one of the opened beer caps.

“Cheers.” Their eyes lock when Dom leans in to clink her beer bottle against Darlene’s. She feels it again—the frayed ends of a wire within her jolt, a connection lit up. She thinks Darlene must feel it too, can see it flicker across her expression.

“How about that tour?” Dom grasps for normalcy. Something to do that will keep her from leaning ever closer, stop her from trailing her fingers up the shape of Darlene’s shirt collar to her neck, and—

Darlene half nods. They are still just looking at each other.

“Well, this is the kitchen.” Darlene’s gaze drifts, and Dom finds herself watching Darlene’s lips shape themselves around her words. “And also the living room. _And_ a make-shift work space, when I need it.”

“Do you have to work tomorrow?” The realization dawns on Dom that just because she isn’t back to work yet doesn’t mean everyone else has such a free schedule, and she isn’t sure how late it’s gotten now. They had talked about Darlene’s work some, freelancing and cybersecurity gigs— _only for the good ones_ , as she had put it. But Dom doesn’t know how busy that leaves her these days.

“Nope.” Darlene nods for Dom to follow her across the room towards a set of French doors. “In-between stuff right now. I’m on a new project later next week.”

“And you know, this may be my first real kitchen, but I have gotten _pretty_ good at making omelettes.” She pauses at the open door to the bathroom and leans against the doorframe. “I could make you breakfast sometime.“ Her eyes sweep over Dom’s figure again, without any hurry, and Dom checks her mentally. Feels a little twinge of satisfaction that Darlene is spending as much time looking at her, taking her in again as she is with Darlene.

“Oh yeah?” Dom chuckles. Darlene sounds immensely proud of her newfound skill, and it’s adorable. And, to be honest, the idea of Darlene cooking breakfast for her is too. “Well, if it’s alright if I crash here... how about breakfast tomorrow?”

“It’s definitely alright.” Darlene’s smile widens, and Dom finds herself following suit. They hadn’t really ever talked specifics of this—what _they_ were, what was okay or too fast—rules and definitions had never felt important. But now, Dom finds her mind churning. She’s never been very good at making the first move, and even now, with all that’s passed between them, she is nervous.

“You know, with all that Ecoin money the landlord actually did some renovations in this former shithole.” Darlene reaches around the door frame and turns on the light in the bathroom. “Check out that bathtub.”

Dom’s eyes flick to the bathroom, welcoming a distraction from her own anxiety. It looks almost entirely newly renovated, sparse with clean white tile and a clawfoot tub. “Shit.”

“Right?” Darlene flicks off the light and reaches for Dom’s hand, and the graze of her fingers against Dom’s skin buzzes pleasantly across her nerve endings. She guides her to the French doors, which she tugs open with comical bravado. “And of _course_ , this is where the magic happens.”

Dom breathes out a laugh, realizing from the bed and dresser that this is Darlene’s bedroom. “A lot of magic going on?”

“Sometimes, yeah.” Darlene shrugs, looks coy. The playful tone in her voice is edged with something else, something vulnerable, soft. “When I was talking to you.”

Dom feels heat rush to her cheeks again, and she smiles, drops her gaze. It’s true. She thinks Darlene is referring to the few times they got off together over the phone, and that _was_ fucking hot. She would be lying if she said the memories alone didn’t make her feel something. But they had also spent so much time just talking, soothing and repairing this connection between them, easing into this new understanding of each other, without any undue bullshit, that it kind of _was_ magical. There’s a lightness between them now that Dom has never felt before—save maybe for months ago when she was tipsy, brushing off Darlene’s suggestions of other women at the bar, realizing the only one she wanted was _Darlene_.

“One more thing.” Darlene touches her hand again, and Dom blinks, looks up. She wonders at how many times they have touched each other since Darlene let her in, reached out instinctively, drawn to each other invariably like some sort of magnetism. She lets herself be lead to the window beside the bed, which Darlene slides open. “This is my favorite part.” She disappears out the window, onto the fire escape outside.

“Hold on—” It’s then that Dom remembers the gift she brought back from Budapest for Darlene, realizes what a perfect moment it is for that. She traces back through the apartment to the front door, where she dropped her bag, and rifles through it.

“Where are your glasses?” She calls over to the bedroom, and Darlene’s head pops through the open window.

“What? What are you doing?”

“Just wait a second.” Dom finds the cups in the cupboard above the sink, and grabs two. Leaves her nearly empty beer on the kitchen counter in favor of the bottle she pulled from her bag.

She heads back to the bedroom and folds herself awkwardly through the window and onto the metal grating outside, where Darlene takes the two glasses from her. The fire escape is at the back of the building, squeezed in-between the others on the block in an oddly cozy sort of way. Dom settles down beside Darlene, letting their shoulders brush against each other when she sits. Above them, the night sky is a hazy navy from the glow of the city lights, without a cloud in sight. It feels good, just the two of them tucked into a space of their own hidden somewhere in the city, pressed close to ward off the chill in the air.

“I brought you something from Budapest.” Dom glances over to see Darlene’s face light up. “I almost forgot I had it cause—“ She gestures vaguely, recalling how she had lost any sense of composure when Darlene opened the door.

“Honestly I don’t even know if you’ll like it, but it always made me think of you.” So many completely new and foreign things had been available to her in Budapest, and she welcomed them gladly, satiated her appetite for different languages and cultures—yet she still hungered for the one thing that wasn't there. The one thing that couldn't be replicated, that exists only in the woman sitting beside her now.

Budapest did so much for Dom, offered so much—it even had its own interpretation of whiskey, but it didn't have Darlene. Dom sets the two glasses out in front of them and grabs the bottle that she left on the windowsill. Opens it and pours a small amount of caramel-colored liquid into each glass, then sets it back inside the apartment.

“I asked for whiskey at the bar down the street from my apartment, and they looked at me like I was crazy. Apparently it’s not really a thing in Hungary, except for this one manufacturer.”

Darlene picks up her glass and sniffs the liquor, raises her eyebrows.

“ _Egészségedre_.” Dom lifts her glass.

“What?”

“Cheers.” She takes a drink, and Darlene follows. The whiskey is harsh, herbal and fruit-heavy, and Darlene coughs. Dom chuckles. “Sorry. I got pretty used to it.”

“I like it. It’s weird.” Darlene smiles into her glass, and leans further into Dom’s shoulder. The weight of her affection fizzes pleasantly under Dom’s skin. “How much Hungarian do you know?”

“Mm, some. My conversational is pretty terrible still, but I could get around. Guess I’m a dead giveaway for a tourist when I start asking for whiskey, though.”

“So American.” Darlene’s tone is teasing, and she half turns toward Dom. Studies her for a few long seconds.

“I’m really glad you’re here.” Dom murmurs, not really thinking. She realizes after the fact that it sounds kind of stupid to say, but she doesn’t care. Maybe it’s the warmth of Darlene so close to her, or the whiskey, or the fresh air, but the nerves that had plagued her all night have faded into the background.

Darlene’s expression softens. “Dom, you are like... my number one favorite person. Of course I’m here.”

Warmth blooms in Dom’s chest, trickles outward into her limbs. “I wasn’t going to say anything, but you’re only my second favorite—“ She bites her lip to suppress her smile.

“ _Stop_.” Darlene laughs and pushes Dom’s shoulder. “I’m fucking serious.”

“I know.” Her voice softens, and she swears Darlene blushes for a moment. It tugs at her heart, makes her want to gush all of the soft feelings she holds for Darlene, the ones she keeps tucked close to her chest. She fumbles for the right words. “I like you _so much_ , Darlene, I—“ She lets out a breath, her train of thought fraying under Darlene’s gaze. “This just feels really good.”

Darlene starts to grin, and wraps her hand around Dom’s thigh to tug her closer.

This time, Dom reaches for her without hesitation, even as her heart starts to pound wildly. Traces her fingertips up the shape of Darlene’s shirt collar, where she can feel the way her breath comes quicker beneath her touch. Pauses when she’s curled her fingers into the soft warmth of Darlene’s hair at the nape of her neck.

“Is this too fast?” Dom has never been more sure of what she wants, and yet.

“ _No_.” Darlene breathes, and it’s like a sigh of relief. Dom leans into her, presses their lips together, soft and unhurried, and Darlene hums a faint _mmmph_ against her mouth. She tastes like whiskey, and the faintest hint of bubblegum.

She can feel the curve of Darlene’s smile press against her lips, and something within her unwinds, settles into the heady, electric feeling that suffuses through her as they kiss. Darlene’s hand leaves her thigh, moves to grasp the collar of her shirt to tug her closer, her tongue drifting past Dom’s lips. 

“Too slow?” Dom murmurs between kisses, and Darlene laughs, pops a button open on Dom’s shirt and slips her hand beneath the fabric to glide her fingertips over her skin, up to her collarbone. Dom knows her heart is racing, is sure Darlene can feel it against her fingers now.

“Don’t ask me that.” Darlene pants with a smirk, breaking from their kisses enough to meet Dom’s gaze. Her eyes are hazy with desire, and Dom understands—it doesn’t matter if it’s slow, or fast, it just matters that it’s her. That it’s them, together.

Dom smiles, and tugs Darlene into another kiss. Hungrier, a little messier than before, and Darlene surges against her. Kisses her greedy and sweet and it makes Dom’s head spin, in the best way. She melts into the feeling, into Darlene, and the way her kisses wind her into a sort of breathless contentment. _Finally_. This feels like home.


End file.
